I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Palaven Blues
Summary: Shepard and Garrus's first Christmas together, after the Reaper War. Revised from the original of the same name under my old profile.
1. December 1st

_AN: Revised from last year's story of the same title. Story is done, just needs revisions on the other chapters, so this one WILL be finished on time, by Christmas. Anything else I've said I'm still working on, I am definitely still working on. Promise. Also, this will be part of my main continuity, so I've avoided any spoilers for that, if I could. A few might have been unavoidable, but they should be mostly canon stuff._

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December 1st

"Come on, Shep, let me help you up." Garrus stood, tense, only a second away from rushing forward to catch her as she rose on trembling legs. She was going to fall, he knew it.

"For the millionth time, I am _fine,_ Garrus." She pushed him away, shuffling over to the bag he'd brought her civvies in.

Garrus chuffed at her, letting his annoyance show. "Do humans always get hospitalized for being 'fine?'"

She grinned back at him, and he found it difficult to hold onto his irritation. She'd been fussing at him for days about how careful he'd acted towards her since the final battle; if he was being honest with himself, he hated it as much as she did, maybe more. He had to admit finally that his little sprite wasn't invincible, that there were some things she might not survive, and that one day, he might have to live without her again. It hurt his heart to see her that way, and he feared sometimes that she would remain fragile for a long time.

"At least let me carry you out to the aircar. We don't have shoes for you, and I don't want you to catch a chill."

"Any excuse to get your talons back on me, huh?" She smirked, and that little spark of her normal fire was oh-so-good to see. _Not such a long time, then. Just being foolish, expecting anything to keep Shep down for long._

"Sure, Shep. Not like I actually want to avoid seeing you die, for the third time. Eventually you run out of chances, you know."

"I know. I just wish the others—" Her face crumpled as she crouched by the bag, rummaging through her clothes without seeming to see any of it. She grabbed an article of clothing and pressed it to her face.

Garrus's heart broke for her again. "Hey, no." He knelt by her, pulling away the tank top she held pressed to her face and rubbing gentle circles on her back. "Shep, you did absolutely everything you could. No one expected you to really do it, let alone with such few losses. It's okay, Shep. Please." His subvocals rumbled, trying to comfort her. She couldn't put all this on herself, she just couldn't. It wasn't her _fault._ Why couldn't she stop hurting herself on it?

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" Shep asked, popping to her feet again. Her voice snapped briskly, almost back to her no-nonsense command voice, and her face had already dried. If he hadn't just seen her break down, he'd never believe it could happen. She held herself together so well, it was hard to remember she had more underneath.

"I found a place. Wait 'til you see it. You'll love it." He hoped she'd love it, anyway. He hoped it reminded her of Mindoir, but only in the good way. He panicked briefly, wondering how bad remembering might be for her. Sweet spirits, what if it reminded her too much?

"Well, if you're gonna spring me from the damn hospital, let's get to it before the doctors catch us." She wrapped a T-shirt around each of her feet. "You're not carrying my ass, though, so you better get used to that idea."

"I love you too, Shep," Garrus replied, rolling his eyes at her perpetual stubbornness.


	2. December 2nd

December 2nd

"Good morning, Shep!" Garrus trilled. He whistled at the end of his sentence, chipper cockatoo-sounding morning lark.

Shepard groaned, rolling back over. Mornings. Cheeriness. Ugh. She loved him enough that she didn't even consider hurting him for waking her when dawn's fingers had barely begun to infiltrate her room … well, she didn't consider it _seriously,_ anyway.

"I brought breakfast." Chirpy whistles gave his mood away. Turian pride and way too happy for this early in the morning. How he woke up so joyful, she didn't know.

_Wait, he said breakfast … he _made_ me breakfast? _Shepard grinned; no one had ever made her breakfast in bed before. She'd have to return the favor as soon as she could. Hopefully, nothing she cooked would actually be deadly. Her brow furrowed as she worked through the implications of her actually cooking, let alone dextro food she couldn't even taste-test first.

_On second thought, maybe I should order in for him sometime_. She stretched a little, aborting the movement halfway through when every abused muscle screamed its protest.

_Ow, ow, ow ..._ _isn't there any way to do breakfast without waking up fully? _She pulled the covers away from her face, and immediately had to smother a laughing fit, half because of the pain, and half because Garrus wouldn't be able to appreciate the joke. Somehow, somewhere, he had found an apron. It came to about mid-thigh on him, pink frills ran down the sides, and he didn't appear to be wearing anything underneath.

"That's, uh, quite the apron there, big guy. Did you lose all your other clothes?" Her mouth twitched as she fought the smirk trying to surface.

Garrus looked down at his apron, smoothing it down self-consciously while he held the tray in the other hand. "Turians don't tend to wear much around the home. But I know you humans have some kind of issue with cooking naked, so …."

She barked a laugh before replying. "Yeah, I think that issue mostly has to do with humans having little hairs right at stove level."

Garrus looked confused, mandibles flailing while he seemed to flounder for her meaning. "Right at stove …? Ewwww, Shep. Why would you tell me that?" He gave an exaggerated shudder, pretending to almost drop the tray he carried.

"Well, you seemed to be asking why." Shepard scooted herself up, leaning against the heavy wood headboard. How had he found this place, anyway? It was perfect. Lovely traditional furniture, cozy pillows and homey touches everywhere … and now breakfast in bed. And he'd done it all for her.

"I wasn't asking," he said, mandibles drooping. "Now are you going to be nice, or am I tossing your breakfast out into the snow?" He motioned as if to take the tray, but his heart clearly wasn't in it; he must have spent a lot of effort putting it together.

Shepard bit her lip, feeling guilty, now. She hadn't meant to harass him. Didn't they usually tease back and forth? "I'll be good. What'd you bring me?"

"French toast, coffee, waffles, bacon, orange juice, pancakes, hot chocolate …." He settled the tray over her thighs while she goggled at the insane amount of food.

"Oh my god, you found cocoa? With marshmallows, too? You're amazing, Garrus." She snatched the mug and started gulping down the chocolate-and-marshmallow soup, moaning into it. It was the little things she found herself missing the most, in wartime.

"Not to mention, the French toast, waffles, pancakes, cereal …." Garrus's mandibles drooped again, and she patted him on the leg.

"It all looks wonderful, big guy. Thank you." _Just, you know … maybe next time don't make all the carb options in a single meal._ Shepard bit her lip, reminding herself to save the jokes for when that look of worry left his face. Mandibles tight, browplates tilted in anxiety …. _My almost-dying again must have really shaken him this time._

"It's too many bread-things, you know. I followed this food pyramid thingie I found. It said you need eleven of these things a day. You people don't eat enough meat." He shook his head in mock sadness, and Shepard had to laugh again.

"I think it's you people who don't eat enough grains. You know, healthy stuff like sugared breakfast cereal."

A shudder wracked him, and he shook his head. "Don't remind me. Do you know how much of that stuff I ate for you? Killed Reapers, always had your six, and ate probably several planets' worth of human children's cereal for you."

Shepard sighed, squeezing his hand. "Tell you what, big guy. I'll clear my plate, if you help me work off all these calories …." She slid her hand up his thigh, edging toward the apron-strings at his waist.

"Oh, no, you don't." Garrus scrambled away. "Get back, temptress. You're on bed rest."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Are you really turning me down?" She injected her voice with the bedroom tone she used with him, doing her best to throw a turian mating growl on the end.

A strangled half-yelp escaped him before he clamped his jaw shut. "Until you are one hundred percent better, I am telling you to rest."

"Oh, all right. If you insist on me getting well before I can do anything, I guess I'll rest some." She grinned as he rolled his eyes at her. "Come on, sit with me. I'll behave," she promised. She patted the bedspread next to her, watching as he approached her and sat down again, legs still looking tensed enough to flee, if he had to. Shepard just smiled. He was delusional if he actually thought she would take the recommended amount of bedrest … but she'd behave.

For breakfast, at least.


End file.
